There is no sunshine when it rains
by Skysha-Tranqui
Summary: [ON HIATUS]Quatre gets hurt in a battle, his POV afterwards, in the form of a diary. Please RR, if only so I can improve.
1. Darkness

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or any of its characters, so don't sue me!

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Warning: Very weird, and disturbing.(not in a sexual way or anything, but still). Also, OOC for Quatre - you have been warned!

Pairing: 3x4 (eventually)

Plot:Quatre suffers and injury and Trowa tried to help him cope. (I know it's been done before, but I wanted to try it myself from a slightly different angle.)

Chapter One

I once heard a saying; There's no sunshine when it rains.

I can't remember where I heard the saying, or who came up with it, but maybe it is true. Maybe it is raining right now. That would explain the darkness, right?

I blink my eyes desperately, trying to adjust to the darkness, so I can see the outline of things in the dark and try to get some clue as to where I am. I am aware of this trick, and yet it doesn't work. No matter how hard I blink the darkness doesn't resolve itself.

Since where I am is still pitchblack I calm my breathing, and steady my racing heart. There are other ways to find out where I am, I will just have to resort to them instead.

So I feel about me with my hands. My fingers brush over something scratchy, and I follow it with my fingertips, tracing it as I try to work out what it is I am feeling. The feel is foreign, but as I continue touching it I realise it is all over me. Covering me almost. A blanket then. It must be a blanket of some kind.

I shift my head a bit, and feel that it is slightly elevated on some kind of platform. A pillow. 

Okay, see this isn't so hard. I am partially covered by a blanket, and my head is on a pillow. There you go then. I must be on some kind of bed, since I appear to be on my back.

I test my other senses now, and the first thing I notice is a weird, but strangely familiar smell. Wherever I am I have obviously been here before. That must mean it is safe. Safe from what though?

I am just beginning to ponder this unusual thought when I hear something. A cold breeze makes me shiver slightly, and I hear the rustle of clothing as somebody or something approaches me.

I still can't see anything, and wonder how someone can live in this pitchblack. I realise they still aren't saying anything, and am just beginning to panic when they speak.

"Oh good, you're awake at last. And how do you feel Mr Winner?" 

The voice is warm and solicitous, and I sense they mean no harm. I don't question how I know this, I just accept it as fact. Plenty of time to question it later. For now though I decide to answer honestly.

"Confused."

There is a brief pause, and I hear an odd scratching noise. Like a pen on a piece of paper, only louder sounding than it should be. There is a slight rustle as if the person has moved, and I hear someone else moving about. 

"Right well that should be cleared up in a moment. I am Doctor Lester, and you appear to be in good health Mr Winner. Therefore I will let your friend visit for a while, but not too long, you understand? I don't want you to over exert yourself too soon."

Despite the fact that the Doctor was addressing me, I got the impression she was also speaking to someone else at the same time. It was very disconcerting.

"Quatre, how are you, really?"

The quiet, concerned voice is a lot closer to me than the Doctor's was, and I automatically turn my head in that direction. I realise vaguely the Doctor has left, but am too busy trying to figure out if I know the owner of the voice to pay it much attention.

After tossing the question of whether or not I know this person about for a minute, I decide it would speed matters if I knew the person's name.

"Sorry, but what's your name?"

As silence spreads for a minute I wonder if I did the wrong thing in asking.

"My name, is Trowa. Trowa Barton. Are you all right, Quatre?" 

I sense something near me, and realise the person has leaned forward, towards me. I also notice an odd tone in their voice. Something akin to worry. And I wonder why they are worried. 

"I'm sorry. Do I know you? I can't seem to remember where I know you from."

I hear him suck in a breath, and jump slightly when I feel a warm hand settle on my bare arm.

"Quatre can you see me?"

The question seems a bit odd, since I don't see how anybody could see in this pitchblackness, but I decide to humour them. They obviously feel they know me, and I don't want to hurt them needlessly.

"Of course I can't see you. It might help if you turned on a light."

There was yet another silence, which was beginning to get on my nerves since I couldn't see what he was doing, before he spoke again. His voice hushed, and definitely worried now.

"Quatre, the light is on."

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What do you reckon? Should I continue, or are you not interested? Please R+R.


	2. Seeing my life through a strangers eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or any of its characters, so don't sue me!

****

Warning: Very weird, and disturbing.(not in a sexual way or anything, but still). Also, OOC for Quatre - you have been warned!

Pairing: 3x4 (eventually)

Plot:Originally, if I was going to continue this I was going to make it quite long. Unfortunately I don't remember what my plan to make it long was, so I'm going to try knocking out another chapter, and see how it progresses - sorry if it's a bit different than the original chapter, but I hope you like it just the same.

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AN: I've decided this fic would read best in a diary-style format, so treat each chapter like a journal entry, and you should enjoy it more!

Chapter Two

Since that day in the hospital I have lived a kind of waking dream. I know who I am. I even know what is wrong with me…now; amnesia and selective blindness. Selective, because there was no injury done to my eyes. The Doctor assured me that such a thing can happen if the person has been traumatised in some way, such as bullying, or the type of accident I was in. The most likely possibility is that my amnesia was caused by the blow to the head I suffered, although the injury was so slight - not even a concussion, that the Doctor's hadn't anticipated such a thing. The good news is that there is still a chance I may recover my memories.

Hypothetically, the Doctor suggested my sight might return with my memories. This, however, didn't have the positive effect he'd obviously hoped for.

I may not remember myself. I may have to be reminded by others that I have blonde hair and blue eyes, and that I am heir to a fortune. But I do remember some things. Like, how to work a shower, how to do maths, and for some reason I get assailed by random pieces of information at times. Such as the chances of someone recovering from such strong amnesia.

The large majority of amnesiacs forget things from a certain point onwards, or just have trouble remembering specific people, places or events. Those who have their memories completely wiped, save for general things, are a lot less likely to recover their original memories, and often have to build an entire new life for themselves.

The fact that I don't have my sight, which is often a trigger for memories, is yet another set back on my 'road to recovery', not to mention damn annoying.

The man who visited me when I first awoke - Trowa - has filled me in on a lot of details I have no recollection of.

He's told me about my other friends. My business acquaintances, siblings, family history, not to mention my love of the violin. And…while I remember how to play the violin, I seem incapable of reproducing the emotions he assures me the instrument used to invoke. Maybe that is just another thing I've lost, but it feels as though there were certain things in my life I used to do, merely because they were expected of me.

For example, Trowa has told me many times of the outings I used to enjoy so much with my sisters - not all of them together at once, but just meeting up with them all for little things - going out to lunch with Iria, meeting at the cinema with Diane, discussing business with Lucy. Yet, while I still enjoy the activities I embark on with my siblings, I find the majority of their company to be lacking. The only one who I seem to be able to truly stand, is that of my sister Iria, yet the 'old' me claimed to only see her more often than my other sisters because she lived nearest.

Such minor details like that seem to trip me up almost daily, and I find the best way to approach my past life and dealings is with caution, and analyse pieces of my behaviour from the angle of any type of emotion - not just the one I myself used to assure others that I felt.

It's been a year since I came out of the hospital, and two months since I resumed my work. The Doctors cautioned me to take things slow, and Trowa was very good to me, taking time off from the circus in order to help me about the house - at least until I'd memorised the layout of the entire building - and making me all of my 'favourite' dishes. But the truth is, I learned very early in my time back from the hospital just how much of the business was taken care of by me - what with people constantly coming to me for suggestions, running every piece of paperwork past me.

After incorporating the use of Braille in all of my company's documents, and then learning to read the script myself, I resumed all my old duties. Trowa, Iria, the Doctors and all of my friends; Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy and Wufei Chang, seemed to take this as a good sign, all commenting in some form that my 'workaholic' status appeared to have remained intact. When I took to the work itself like a duck to water they thought for a moment that my memories might be returning, and even when they didn't they still thought for a while that I might regain them through work - that the familiarity of work might trigger something.

It hasn't happened yet, and all I noticed was another peculiarity in my lifestyle. All of my acquaintances; friends, business associates, even business rivals, have this idea that I love my work, and I live to do my job. Yet I hate it.

I hate the excessive documents. I hate the whining clients. I hate the board of directors I have to include in all of my plans, even though the majority of them never have a clue what I am talking about in the conferences I hold. I hate how time consuming it is. I hate how it makes people treat me. And most of all, I hate the notoriety I have achieved because of my success at it all.

Yet nobody has a clue about this, and I fail to see how such a major change of opinion could have been wrought, merely through amnesia. In all of my subsequent research into the phenomenon, I have never found anything to suggest such a thing is possible. All of the books say that likes and dislikes remain largely the same - you can try a new food you may have been prejudiced against before, and discover that you like it - but unless you were deluding yourself before about disliking something, then your opinion doesn't change.

To me this suggests that I have been doing a lot of lying. I have lied about my love for my sisters, my love of my job, and possibly even my love of music.

I have tried to analyse why I would lie about such things, I have looked at each lie from every angle, and in each case I see that my lie has changed my behaviour in subtle ways - made people love, respect and admire me - for the sole reason that the lies I told are the things people expected me to feel and believe in the first place.

Such manipulation, beginning from such an early age, seems too devious to be real. And yet, when in dealings with clients, or against an opposing company, this same deviousness seems to rise out of me. I find myself knowing what the other 'player' will do or say, and I have already mapped out a contingency plan before they open their mouths to speak.

One thing that has remained the case though, is the comradeship and trust I feel towards those Trowa introduced as friends. I feel as though I know things about them that no one else does, and that this trust made me feel honoured, even as I struggled to keep from giving them mine in return. Yet, I am incapable of recalling what big secrets bind us together in such a manner. Those my sisters introduced as friends of mine I feel no such bond with, and in some cases I don't even feel a faint lukewarm tolerance towards them.

None of those 'friends' stick out like the ones Trowa introduced do, and I rather suspect that the 'old' me befriended them for the same reasons I have lied - because it was expected, or gained me something in this cold-blooded manipulation I appear to have constantly been caught up in.

My sister Diane was the one to reintroduce my 'boyfriend' to me - a rather bland man by the name of Justin Daniels. No feelings of love or affection overcame me at this meeting, apart from the rather strong urge to rip his hand off when he copped rather too big of a feel. Slightly surprised by my revulsion of him, I politely informed him I didn't think it was best for me to be in a relationship when I couldn't even remember said 'relationship', and promptly broke off any 'commitment' to him I might have had.

Such a manipulation sickened me, and even though I couldn't figure out why I would have done such a thing, the fact that even I couldn't put up with it, when I had supposedly done it in the first place, suggested that I hadn't meant to do it, or perhaps I hadn't had a very clear reading of my own feelings at the time. I don't know, and given my past self's rather reprehensible behaviour in other areas of love, life and work, I don't understand why I even try to justify such behaviour, when it could so easily fit in with the rest. Other than the fact that it doesn't sit easy with me, where the rest of my transgressions I am able to live with, however uneasily that may be.

One other noteworthy thing, which is not negative, is something which happened just last week.

I invited my real friends to stay over for a few days, using the idea that spending time with them may help me recover my memories, as an excuse to take some time off work. After various encouraging remarks about my love for hosting surprise get-togethers - obviously a ploy I incorporated often to escape my job - they all complied, and came over.

The time we all spent together is unimportant, although I was pleased to note that further time in their company only increased my admiration and bond towards them, but something which happened whilst we were all together is of importance.

Duo had got up from watching a movie, to go and fetch another drink from the kitchen. Shortly after leaving, Heero also got up for a drink, and followed Duo into the kitchen.

A moment later I felt an incredible warmth generate from within my chest, which startled me so much I almost dropped my popcorn. And when Heero and Duo came back in, hands filled with drinks and laughing about something, I just knew!

So of course, I just came out with it - asking them how long they'd been a couple.

After a rather shocked silence they'd told us, then told me that they hadn't actually told any of us about it yet. Duo took hold of the explanation and told how they'd been ready to tell us for some time now, but there never seemed to be the time, and when they finally were ready I'd had my accident, and they'd agreed it would be best for me to recover my old memories, before they dealt me a bunch of new information.

When the conversation returned to me, and how I'd known they were a couple, I explained about the feeling I'd had, and Wufei had realised it was my 'space heart'. Apparently I have the ability to sense emotions. It explained quite a bit - like how I always seem to be able to anticipate my business associate's words and actions - I can feel how they feel, and I can then judge what course of action they will take.

Of course once Duo realised what that meant he turned to me - shocked. 'That means you've known about me and Heero since the beginning!!'

He simmered down when he remembered I couldn't really respond to that statement, but I'd felt a distant part of myself sniggering in amusement, and I think I did know, and took great pleasure in 'accidentally' walking in on them and watching them stammer out excuses. I fear I may have a bit of a sadistic streak in me.

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I hope you like this chapter, and don't mind the style I chose. It just seemed easier than trying to do lots of shifting perspectives and voices and such, which was my original plan. This way it's rather like taking a peek into Quatre's mind, and I hope I can keep it in a similar format to the first chapter. Not as depressing as I thought it was going to be, my Quatre seems to be developing a strange sense of humour - must have got it from me! Lol

cookies to all who reviewed last time R&R again, please? And let me know what you think of it!


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